But that’s their problem, Joe thought, comfortable in his small subterfuge.
In theory, only the journal editor and the three reviewers knew details of the paper. In practice, word of the paper was already circulating. Joe had been contacted by two chemical company recruiters with job offers, each at a salary comparable to that of a full professor with twenty years’ experience, plus generous benefits—information he had not shared with Ellsworth. He and Julie anticipated a further increase in interest once he publicly revealed the latest results in his meeting presentation. They would have to do some hard thinking if they got an offer they couldn’t refuse.
“Then you wouldn’t get your PhD,” Julie pointed out when he told her of the first offer.
“No, but a doctor of philosophy degree is less important in industry than at universities, where they wouldn’t even look at your application if you weren’t Dr. Somebody. I’ve asked around, and there’s not much difference between a master’s degree and a PhD for companies unless you aim to become head of a division or even of the whole company, neither of which I have any interest in.
“If we decided to bail on the PhD, all I have to do is withdraw from the doctoral program, and a master’s degree is automatically granted, based on my first two years’ work. Is sticking out two to three more years as a graduate student worth adding three letters behind my name?”
“You know my feelings, Joe. I’m ready to nest and move on. And there’s the other little item to consider.”
They had been living together for three years, with a wedding scheduled in two months, soon after Joe’s AAAS presentation. Julie and her family were in full wedding-planning mode, something Joe was happy to leave to them. Then, a week before Joe left for Chicago, a complication appeared when a pregnancy kit came up positive. They had been careless. Having a family was something they wanted “someday” in the nebulous future. Now, whether “someday” would come in seven months or whether Julie would end the pregnancy was under discussion. The option of Joe having a well-paid job would factor into their decision.
From his seat, Joe saw his vague reflection in the plane’s window. What stared back was the face of a man twenty-six years old, of average appearance, fine, mousy brown hair, and unusually light blue eyes. He accepted himself as a classic science nerd. He loved watching sports but was not athletic, being too slow, too uncoordinated, too unmuscular, too lazy, and from an early age too reluctant for the physicality of team sports. Occasional hiking and jogging, spurred on by Julie’s nagging, were his only vigorous activities.
While Flight 4382 continued loading, Joe reviewed the notes for his talk. He lost his concentration when the occupants of the other two seats in his row appeared. A tall man of about forty-five and dressed in a suit nodded a greeting as he sank into the aisle seat. The man rose again a moment later for the occupant of the middle seat—a teenage Hispanic girl. She said hello to Joe with a friendly smile and took her seat. They all settled with minimal elbow joggling as the plane finished loading. Joe smelled perfume on the girl, and when she bumped his elbow and apologized, he responded politely, then promptly forgot about both of his row-mates and resumed mentally practicing his talk.
“Sir, please buckle up,” said a flight attendant.
“Oh, sorry.” He tussled with the seatbelt, then loosened it to accommodate his girth. He really needed to lay off pizza so often. Never one to mince words, his fiancée called him pudgy.
The plane taxied to the runway and waited in a queue. When cleared for departure, the engines roared as the plane picked up speed and lifted off. Joe clamped his hands on both armrests. They rose to cruising altitude, and the engine noise settled to a steady drone.
Three hours fifty-five minutes before they touched down in Chicago. Joe’s stomach churned. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.
“You okay?”
Joe turned to the girl. “What?” He pulled out a handkerchief and mopped his brow, then laughed. “Guess I’m a little nervous.”
“Do you fly often?”
“Nope, only my third time.”
“Then this isn’t the best route.” She smiled sympathetically. “It’s normally bumpy when we cross the Rockies. But don’t worry. We’ll bounce around for a bit, and then it’ll be okay. They seldom lose a wing.” A mischievous grin played on her full lips.
“Thanks for nothing,” he muttered.
“It’s quite exciting when we go through turbulence.”
Joe’s mouth twitched, and he glanced at her. She couldn’t be more than sixteen. “My need for an adrenaline rush is limited to computer games.” He tightened the seatbelt. “Even roller coasters are more than I can handle, and they’re a few hundred feet off the ground.”
“Then you haven’t lived. I can’t wait to try skydiving.”
Not for him. Nor bungee jumping, rock climbing, or any other inconceivable activities. Video games and watching sports were plenty of action for him. He pulled out his laptop and opened it, hoping she’d get the message he wasn’t interested in conversation, and especially not the sort that involved aircraft wings falling off.
“What do you do?”
Joe sighed. To work, he needed to escape this chatty teenager. “I’m a scientist.” He opened his presentation and turned the screen so she could see his slides. “Sorry, I need to work.”
She shrugged and pulled out a book.
Joe worked on his presentation, which helped calm his nerves. Two hours into the flight the plane jolted, and his stomach spasmed.
The girl giggled. “Turbulence. Guess we’re over the Rockies.”
His belly tightened, and beads of sweat reappeared on his forehead. He put the laptop away, cinched the seatbelt tighter, and clutched the armrests.
The plane lurched. Joe’s seatbelt squeezed his stomach. Gasps and squeals reverberated through the cabin; somewhere a child cried.
The captain’s controlled voice drifted from the address system. “Please return to your seats and fasten your seatbelts. We’ll have rough air for the next few minutes.”
His anxiety mounting, Joe’s grip tightened. He opened his eyes and stared down at mountains far below. A wave of vertigo swept over him, and he raised his eyes to the horizon. A dot appeared in the distance and drew Joe from his thoughts. He frowned. A plane? His eyes widened in panic as the dot expanded to fill the window.
The plane lurched sideways, and an explosion rocked the aircraft. High-pitched wails filled the air, and a flight attendant and a drink trolley careened down the aisle. Baggage compartments burst open, and bags became missiles.
A second explosion sent shards of metal flying. A ball of burning fuel burst in through an exit door several rows to the front, incinerating passengers close to it. The inhalation of smoke stopped the scream in Joe’s throat.
The plane tilted, nose down, and the seatbelt bit into his midriff, then the aircraft swung nose up. The seat in front jerked back violently, slamming into his knees. Joe stared at his legs. A femur jutted through torn flesh, and blood pumped from the wound in thick ribbons, but he felt nothing. He looked at the girl next to him. Her eyes were wide, mouth open in a scream that was lost in the noise of grinding metal and chaos.